


Covert op

by snarled_musings



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rimming, Shameless Smut, actually not really angsty at all, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarled_musings/pseuds/snarled_musings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finch wants to help Reese. They run into an old "friend", which plays havoc with Finch in ways he'd never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covert op

**Author's Note:**

> Been working at this for a while now. Not really angsty at all, surprisingly, instead it went all light-hearted. Then it devolved into smut, of course. I need a serious talk with my plot bunnies. Oh, and I couldn't resist a small cameo from one of my earlier creations, sorry about that!

”New York needs to update their hate crime laws, I'd say. Tighten thumb screws, change statures, _something_. This is getting to be both ridiculous and annoying. It's bad when I actually _miss_ taking down mobsters. Hell, I even miss Elias.”

 

”These last few numbers have been pretty straight-forward, Mr. Reese.” Finch's voice was dry. ”You've been in no bodily harm for over ten days.”

 

Reese's annoyance was clear over the line. ”That depends on how you look at it. Are you sure the machine hasn't learned some new tricks after the stunt you pulled with Blake?”

 

”What do you mean?”

 

”I'm talking about the fact that five out of ten numbers have led me to ending up in gay bars. I think your eagerness to get me a date confused the machine.” Reese sounded truly aggravated; Finch gave a small smirk. He glanced at the drawing of Reese, still hanging on prominent display opposite the monitors. For a second he wished Grace could have drawn it. She'd have done the motive a lot more justice than he could ever dream of. ”And now I'm standing outside another one. I swear, I will shoot the next one who tries to grope me.”

 

”Come now, Mr. Reese. It's for a good cause.”

 

”You could make it easier on me and get down here. We'd blend in, and with you as my 'boyfriend' I wouldn't attract so much attention as I fend off unwanted suitors.”

 

Finch gave a small laugh. ”Me? In a gay bar? Blending in?”

 

”Nobody would raise an eyebrow.” Reese's voice was silky, with a teasing undertone. ”I'd make sure we fit right in.” It wasn't hard to imagine. He'd been surprised at first to learn of Reese's sexual preferences. But when he thought about it, it made sense. He was flexible in so many other areas, why not when it came to gender preference? A part of him wished it could have ended better with Blake. Reese really deserved some happiness and normalcy. Another part was secretly glad Reese had abjured it. No matter what he said it would have been hard to watch Reese in a relationship and not be jealous. He couldn't allow himself that luxury, and he wasn't that big a man that he wouldn't be envious. That Reese hadn't used other... outlets of satisfaction surprised him. Even he wasn't above hiring professional escorts when he felt the need surface. It was a testament to Reese's single-minded focus that he hadn't resorted to similar methods. Of course that might explain why he'd been wound so tight. Since Blake, Reese had been a lot more mellow. Until the machine had handed them three consecutive LGBT-related numbers in a row. Then he'd been pissed off. Finch could see his point; it wasn't hard picturing Reese having to fend off suitors with a stick. He didn't mind saving, or stopping the numbers, but he was extremely opposed to being groped. Which he'd been, a lot. Maybe he had a point, maybe Finch's actions had misled the machine. He sighed, feeling suddenly guilty.

 

”What's the name of the club, and how should I dress?” His voice was dripping with defeat; Reese's was oozing delight as he answered:

 

”The Closet. Cute, isn't it? And just wear what you usually do. I'll wait for you outside.” On the bright side, he'd get to widen his horizons. He'd never been to a gay club before. And he might be able to help Reese. On the downside: He was going to a gay club. With Reese. Somehow he wasn't sure this was a brilliant idea. He looked himself over in the mirror. Maybe he was a bit overdressed. He took off his jacket, removed his waistcoat and pulled the jacket back on. Casual was much better.

 

* * *

 

He got out of the car, looking for Reese. His eyes widened as he took in the clientele. He wasn't innocent, far from it, but this something he wasn't used to. Men looking like women, women looking like men, same-sex couples, flamboyant queens and kings. In the middle of all this stood Reese. In his simple black suit and white shirt he looked like an exotic bird. He constantly scanned the crowd, smoothly side-stepping anyone coming too close. One, a woman (Finch had to study her closely to decide if she was a woman or a young man), stepped into his personal space with a leer and put her hand on his bicep. Reese stared at her, eyes colder than a winter storm, and something in Finch lurched. Then those cold eyes thawed as they fastened on him, and those grim features melted into a small smile as Reese made his way over to him. Finch looked at him, really looked at him, and realized John was attractive. He'd always seen Reese as handsome, but this was something else. It was strange, disconcerting, almost a visceral blow and he felt like he'd lost his footing a little. Then a warm hand took hold of his elbow.

 

”Hello Finch, glad you could make it. Things were becoming a bit awkward here.” He led Finch inside with an air of propriety. How did he do that? All he did was grasp his elbow! Finch had to admit he was a bit envious of Reese's confidence, even if he right now was damn glad for it; coming here really wasn't a great idea. He felt he stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. He looked over the masses, soon enough catching sight of their current number. She was small, boyish with short-cropped hair and very little make-up. At the moment she was chatting to another woman, taller, more feminine.

 

”Have you assessed the threat yet?” Reese's hand had moved to the small of his back like it belonged there. It was odd, the way it didn't even feel strange or awkward. They'd become very casual about touching each other. He followed to where Reese pointed.

 

”See that guy over there? He doesn't really belong here. He's here only because he got dumped by Amy as she moved on to that woman. He also bought a hand gun on the street. He's here, despite being probably the only straight guy in the building, except for you. It's not a difficult equation.” He sighed. ”Sometimes I wish people could be less stupid. There's not enough challenges to this job sometimes.” Finch gave a crooked smile at that. It was true, but they really should be grateful the world wasn't overrun with criminal masterminds. He opened his mouth to say so when Reese's eyes widened.

 

”Noah? What the hell are you doing here?” Finch turned to set eyes on Joseph Blake, Reese's former colleague and lover, their former number. Reese looked uncomfortable.

 

”Hi Joe. Well, I'm just...” Finch decided to intervene. Blake knew too much about Reese already, about his endeavor. It was unlucky they'd run into him. He gave an open, gullible smile and stretched his hand out.

 

”Hi, I'm Harry.” Joe took it, looking slightly dazed, eyes still on Reese.

 

”I still don't know who you are.” The voice was soft. Reese shook his head in agreement, something in his eyes.

 

”No, you don't. I'm sorry.” Finch decided the clueless boyfriend-act was already a waste of time. Instead he shot Joe a warning glance.

 

”You know how my friend helped you. We're here to help another, in a similar situation.” Reese reached out, put a hand on Joe's shoulder.

 

”What happened? Between us? It wasn't about using you. I hope you didn't take it that way.”

 

Joe gave a minute smile. ”We agreed to no strings attached. It's not like you're the one that got away or anything.” He leaned over slightly and kissed Reese's cheek lightly. ”You saved my life. Thank you.” He left then, Reese looking after him with a bemused smile, a hand touching the spot of the kiss. There was something in Reese's eyes, something he couldn't pinpoint. An expression he couldn't put words to. It made him vaguely uncomfortable.

 

”Any regrets, Mr. Reese? You know you can still step out.” Reese was still looking after Joe, then he visibly shook himself.

 

”No regrets, Finch. It was just- unexpected, running into him.”

 

”Is he the one that got away?” Reese's smile turned more genuine at that.

 

”Not by a long shot. I just wanted to make sure he knew I didn't use him to get to him, not like that. I shouldn't have mixed business with pleasure, it left kind of a bad taste.” His gaze had shifted, warily keeping an eye on Amy's ex-boyfriend. The young man was inching closer to the female couple. ”Come on.” He pulled Finch along with him, discreetly moving them closer to their mark. Finch followed willingly, confident in Reese's abilities. Soon they were close enough to step in should the need arise. That's when Finch felt someone tap his shoulder lightly. He turned around. An older man stood there, casually dressed in jeans and a shirt. He was lean, slim, tanned and exuded interest. He bent down slightly to ask:

 

”Buy you a drink?” He smiled slightly. Finch opened his mouth to answer when Reese turned, a wolfish smile on his face.

 

”I'm sorry pal, he's taken already. Better luck next time.” Finch looked at the two men. This was... weird. Reese actually looked possessive as he put a hand on Finch's shoulder. The other man's face fell a little as he nodded and turned away. Finch looked at Reese, a small smile quirking his lips.

 

”My hero, Mr. Reese.”

 

Reese's smile softened into a grin. ”Huh. And here I thought you'd protect _my_ virtue. Not that I'm surprised you got hit on.” Finch was just about to ask what he meant when Reese tensed. The young man was close to the two women, one hand going to his pocket. Reese tapped his ear. ”Lionel, now would be a good time.” To Finch's surprise Fusco's figure quickly stepped in, a heavy hand landing on the young man's shoulder in a firm grip. Without further ado the man was cuffed and ushered away. Reese took Finch's arm, following Fusco. The detective leveled a glare at the taller man.

 

”If you were here, what the hell was the point of _me_ being here? This ain't my idea of a fun Saturday night, being felt up by strange guys.” Reese's face was blank, his voice mild.

 

”I'm not the police, Lionel, I can't arrest people. Besides, it's good to broaden one's horizons.”

 

The glare turned to a glower. ”I don't want to broaden anything in here. I'm getting the hell out of here, I suggest you do the same. Unless you plan to make a night of it?” Reese shrugged casually.

 

”Who knows? I might get lucky.” Fusco sputtered in astonishment as Reese turned to Finch. ”Care for a drink?” Finch looked around, amused by the detective's speechlessness.

 

”Does it have to be here?” Reese smirked.

 

”Why Finch, are you inviting me for a nightcap?” Finch couldn't help it, he gave a laugh as he shook his head. Fusco echoed the gesture, looking like he wanted to hide somewhere.

 

”I do _not_ need those images in my head! Whatever you do, don't call me tonight. I don't wanna know.” Reese chuckled as he let Fusco lead the way out. Their number looked after them, eyes wide. Finch resisted the impulse to wave at her.

 

* * *

 

To Finch's surprise Reese turned to him as they watched the cruiser take off. ”So how about that drink?”

 

”I thought you were joking, Mr. Reese.” The answer to that was a shrug and another quick smile.

 

”Come on, Finch. I just ran into an ex. Everyone knows it's the best friend's job to offer a shoulder to cry on when that happens. Especially if said friend had anything to do with setting the situation up.” The glance Reese shot him was inscrutable; he answered with a shrug of his own.

 

”Very well, it's not like I have any big plans for the rest of the evening. You get to pick the place, you're the one crying over the one that got away after all.” Reese's eye twitched; Finch suppressed a grin. He fell into step with Reese, walking in companionable silence. They deserved a little bit of downtime, come to think of it. The last week had been truly hectic.

 

Reese's voice interrupted his musings. ”Read any good books lately?” Finch frowned at him, Reese looked slightly sheepish as he shrugged. ”What? I had to say something to get conversation going!” Finch's frown turned to a laugh and Reese's look morphed into one of contentment. The hand was back on Finch's lower back as they stepped into a small wine bar. The wine was excellent, the company better and Finch was relaxed and in a good mood when he got back home.

 

* * *

 

He awoke with his pulse racing, body shaking, sweaty. A small sound escaped him, a noise of something close to despair. Throwing the covers off he made his way to the bathroom to clean up. This was moving beyond aggravating, into the realm of slightly frightening. He stepped into the shower, closing his eyes, picturing Grace. Nothing happened, until her green eyes morphed in his mind's eye, turning blue, set in a tanned face. ”No!” It was a plea, denial and protest all rolled into one. He didn't understand what was happening. How it could be happening. He had to do something about it. Without further ado he toweled off and turned to his computer. He needed help. This had gone on for long enough. A full week of this and he was going insane. As he looked up therapists his phone trilled and a familiar voice spoke softly in his ear.

 

”Good morning, Finch. Did you sleep well?”

 

”Very well, Mr. Reese.” Surely this little lie would be all right to tell? Besides, up until the moment he'd been aware of what's been happening he had slept well. ”No new numbers this morning, so why don't you take the day off? I'll call you if something comes up.” Reese sounded slightly surprised as he agreed. It wasn't a lie; the machine had spit out nothing new, but even if it had Finch would have ignored it. Instead he made a quick call and booked an appointment. It was embarrassing, but not doing this might make it worse. He dressed and headed out before he could lose his nerve. The drive felt like an eternity, the short walk to the office made him feel like a condemned man. How did he believe this was a good idea? But he sat down in the waiting room. Almost immediately he was ushered into the office. He shook hands with a man about his own age.

 

”So Mr. Tern, how can I help you? Have you been seeing a therapist before?” Finch shook his head, hands suddenly sweaty.

 

”Lately I've been having these... urges. These dreams, and I- it affects my everyday life, my work.” He looked down on his hands. ”It's detrimental to my work, to be honest. I can't focus properly, and lack of focus is- bad.” His voice trailed off. He had no idea how to go on.

 

”What kind of dreams and urges are we talking about here, Mr. Tern? Harold? If I may?” Finch nodded, staring down on his hands. How had he figured this was a good idea?

 

”I've been having these inappropriate thoughts about an associate of mine. It's... Like I said, I can't afford to lose focus. Besides, I doubt my advances would be welcome.”

 

”Is she married?” Finch flushed as he shook his head.

 

”It's a he. He's not married. But I sincerely doubt I'm his type.” The doctor made a small note.

 

”It's always hard when your fantasies revolve around a subject that doesn't share your sexuality. You can't force homosexuality on someone.” He looked up at Finch, completely at ease. Finch found it kind of remarkable that he could be so comfortable talking about things like this, that he did this all days long. Finch wouldn't be caught dead doing this. He figured he knew how Reese felt when he was forced to go into therapy. Not that it had ended well; Root was hardly a legitimate therapist after all. He shook himself mentally, this wasn't a tangent he wanted to go off on.

 

”Oh, but I'm not gay. He is, or rather, he's bisexual. But I've never... I haven't seen men as attractive before. I don't know what's changed!” He sounded quite plaintive even to his own ears.

 

The doctor made another note. ”Has your relationship undergone any changes lately? Have you done anything out of the ordinary?” Finch shook his head. ”Has anything happened that might threaten your current relationship?” He shook his head again.

 

”We've been working together just as closely as always. We know each other reasonably well, I'd say. Even if i didn't know until a couple of months ago about his preferences. But it was fine; nothing that bothers me. But now... For a week I've had these dreams, every night.” He wasn't sure but he thought he saw a ghost of a smile on the doctor's face.

 

”Erotic dreams?” The flush deepened, Finch felt his entire face heat up as he nodded. ”Why do you think they've surfaced now?”

 

”I don't know! Ever since we were at that club...” His voice trailed off and he cursed himself silently.

 

The prompt was immediate. ”What club?”

 

”A gay bar.” Finch's voice was small. ”It was for a job. We met a friend of my associate's there.” The doctor made another note before looking at his watch.

 

”I'm sorry, Harold, but our time's up for today. Should I schedule you for another appointment? Same time next week?” Finch nodded despondently in agreement. Damn Reese! This was all his fault! He had to get his head screwed back on straight. The thought made his lips twitch slightly in amusement as he left the office. He was slightly distracted and didn't watch were he was going, which was why he walked straight into a broad chest.

 

”Finch? Are you all right?” The soft, familiar voice made his eyes widen in shock. He stared up at Reese, who held him in a gentle grip. If he hadn't Finch would have fallen as they collided. He swallowed hard.

 

”Mr. Reese, what are you doing here? Were you following me?” Reese nodded, completely unabashed.

 

”You sounded distracted, off, this morning. You had me worried. Why are you seeing a therapist? I thought you were kind of over the issues after the Root-incident.” He _sounded_ truly worried, and Finch answered before he could think, just to reassure him.

 

”I am, I promise you, John.” Reese's eyes narrowed slightly.

 

”Then my question remains: why the therapist? I thought you didn't believe in that. What's got you so torn up that you can't handle it yourself, or let me help you handle it?” There was note of something in his voice. Finch wasn't sure, but Reese sounded- hurt? He bit his lip to contain a small noise of frustration. How was he going to get out of this?

 

”I'm sorry, but there are things I'm not comfortable discussing, Mr. Reese. There are something called boundaries, after all.” Hopefully Reese would back off; the wolfish smile he gave made Finch want to close his eyes. Obviously he wouldn't be let off the hook so easily.

 

”Yes there is,” Reese agreed cheerfully. ”But I might see this as cause for concern. After all, what if you get distracted? What if we run into something that triggers you?” Finch did close his eyes this time. The man was more tenacious than a pit bull. He straightened his back slightly and began walking. Reese easily fell into step next to him, shortening his strides to match Finch's pace. The smaller man could feel him, a warm line next to him, a familiar presence. Impulsively he stopped and put a hand on Reese's arm.

 

”Mr. Reese, you know I am...”

 

Reese interrupted with an eye roll. ”...A very private person. Spare me this speech again, I've heard every nuance and variation of it. Okay, I'll back off. But... ” His voice trailed off and he looked at Finch. Those blue eyes softened, filled with worry. ”I am concerned, Harold. It's not like you, and I really wish you'd talk to me!” There was a hint of pleading in his voice; it nearly had Finch undone. Reese rarely asked for anything and when he did it was almost instinctual for Finch to give it to him. This, however was one thing he couldn't give. Instead he smiled slightly and decided to negotiate a bit.

 

”How about this? If I haven't made head nor tails of this in three weeks, I promise to tell you. Does that seem fair?” Reese gave a small shrug.

 

”I guess it's the best I'll get. Just promise me you won't get hurt.”

 

”That's what I'm trying to avoid,” Finch mumbled as they headed to the car.

 

* * *

 

Two sessions later and Finch was ready to give up on therapy. The dreams persisted and actually turned more intense. He'd tried to avoid Reese, but it was practically impossible. Partly because they worked so close, but mostly because when Reese wasn't around Finch tended to miss him. It was strange. So he hung his head and decided to talk to Reese. Not about him in particular. ”Hi, I've been having wet dreams about you for a little more than two weeks and it rattles me. What should we do about it?” No, he couldn't see that happening. Instead he decided to take up his moral dilemma in a little more circumspect way. He stepped out from his appointment. Reese stood leaning against a lamp post, relaxed and casual. The leash was trailing from his hand, Bear sitting next to him. Finch shook his head, a small smile escaping him as Reese handed him the leash.

 

”So, are you well yet? Has therapy healed you?” The sardonic tone made Finch frown even as he sighed.

 

”No, I'm beginning to believe I am a lost cause. I don't believe what I need can be found within those walls.”

 

Reese smirked. ”I can believe you can't find what you need. Therapy's about opening up, you know. So, do you want to talk about it?” He didn't, not really, but at the same time he did. Maybe he could just skirt around the issues without going into the particulars. He absently removed his glasses, polished them, put them back on. Reese just looked at him patiently, knowing him better than to prod him. Finally he sighed.

 

”It's just a bit of a personal crisis, I guess. I've been undergoing a phase, you might say, and it's left me a bit unbalanced. Maybe a bit of an identity crisis would be aptly put. But I've realized that therapy won't change anything, this is simply something I must accept.”

 

”Well, maybe the appointments weren't completely wasted, then. It at least made you willing to accept things about yourself. So, what's it all about?”

 

Suddenly Finch just wanted to make it all go away. It was just tiring. So what; they were just dreams. Dreams couldn't harm him, harm anyone. There really was no need to share the sordid details with Reese. He looked at his friend and felt a burst of affection. He gave a crooked grin.

 

”Let's just say that lately life's been a bit of an eye-opener. I've learned that one can change, and it doesn't have to be a bad thing. Just because I might have to revise a few things about myself, it doesn't mean I'm different, or bad.” Reese gave a small laugh.

 

”Harold, there's nothing bad in you. You might be tenacious, ruthless, fierce, but never _bad_.” He frowned. ”What case had you so twisted up? I mean, there's been nothing special going on around us lately. It's been downright dull for us, considering what we might land into. I can't see what might have given you an identity crisis... Oh.” Finch could see the proverbial light bulb turn on. ”Is this about the club? Is it _that_ kind of crisis, Finch?” Finch hunched his shoulders slightly as he nodded. They walked on in silence; he finally dared to glance up at Reese. The taller man looked amused. ”So, is your world collapsing because you might have found a man attractive? Did I make a mistake by interrupting that guy who wanted to buy you a drink?”

 

Finch felt his lips quirk up. ”Honestly, I guess it doesn't matter. And no, you did not make a mistake, Mr. Reese. He's not my type.” Another laugh.

 

”So, you've already found a type? That's quick work, Finch.” Finch echoed his laugh, feeling relieved. This wasn't as bad as he'd feared. And if he chose to omit that his type was John Reese, that wasn't a lie, right? Reese's voice took on an expression best described as pure glee. Finch rarely saw that particular expression; when Reese wore it it never bode well. ”This means I can set _you_ up on a date. I owe you one, considering Joe.” Finch blanched. This was not what he'd planned.

 

* * *

 

It was remarkable what not suppressing things could do for his psyche. Ever since he admitted to himself that he found Reese attractive his libido had been a lot more manageable. He still had dreams about his friend, but they were no longer nightly occurrences. He was occasionally daydreaming about Reese, but it no longer felt out of hand. He looked at Reese with a swell of fondness. Considering how many emotions they evoked in each other it wasn't surprising his thoughts had turned sexual. Not that he'd act on it. He'd seen Joseph, after all, and he wasn't quite in the same league. Reese seemed to prefer him men young and handsome. So did Finch, but he had a little different standards than Reese. On the other hand Finch had tried to find other men attractive. Tried, and failed. In the end he'd accepted that his lust, and quiet affection, was directed only at Reese. And it was fine, it didn't matter. Nothing would come of it, but the fact that he felt so much for someone again meant he was still alive, still human. It had the additional upside of keeping Reese immensely amused. He was really just a big child, sometimes. Whenever they were out he tried to find Finch's type. Once he'd even gone so far as to chat up a stranger, trying to convince him to take Finch out on a date. Finch didn't know if he should laugh or die of mortification. The decision was made even harder when the stranger agreed to date Finch. In the end all he could do was duck his head into Bear's fur and laugh helplessly. The fact that they were on even ground in this as well had their relationship being more relaxed than ever. They were one unit, almost extensions of each other. Even Carter and Fusco noticed how seamless their work was. Carter was amazed; Fusco was worried. He wasn't naïve enough to believe there was no underlying reason or change to it all, he just couldn't figure out what. Or maybe he didn't want to figure it out. He tried to pry it out of Finch; he might as well have tried squeezing water out of a rock. If Finch hadn't given in to Reese's interrogation he sure as hell wouldn't fold under Fusco's.

 

“What about that guy over there, Finch? Look he even has a dog!” Finch uninterestedly followed Reese's gaze and his eyes widened slightly. The man was handsome, no doubt about it, and Finch knew exactly what did it. It was the salt-and-pepper hair, even if the haircut was wrong, the athletic build, even if he was too short, and the blue eyes. Even if they were just a shade too light. Without being able to stop himself he turned to Reese, doing a quick comparison before shaking his head. Reese cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Finch? Did you just check me out?” He could have kicked himself for his indiscretion. He wasn't supposed to give anything away. He opened his mouth to deny it, but no sounds emerged. Reese's eyes darkened even as he gave a soft smile. The look he gave Finch in return had his insides squirming; he cleared his throat.

 

“I was just comparing...” Reese's finger on his lips silenced him and his eyes widened in shock.

 

“Is that what I've been missing in this equation? Me? Or is my ego getting too big?” Amusement saturated his voice, tinged with something else. He sure wasn't getting upset or angry anyway. Finch swallowed hard.

 

“Come now, John, it's hard not to compare other men to you.”

 

“It wouldn't be if you didn't find me worthy of comparison. So do you? Find me worthy?” Finch looked into those earnest eyes and swallowed hard before nodding once. He was tongue-tied, unable to shape words. Reese's smile broadened slightly as he bent down. Finch had an instant for his brain to make sense of things before soft lips pressed against his. He responded instinctively, opening his mouth to delve into Reese's. The taller man was content to let him lead them through this first kiss. Finch mapped out his tastes, the contours and shape of his mouth. He let himself register the subtle differences from kissing a woman. The slight scratch of stubble against his cheek was the most noticeable; maybe the only real difference he could say right now. He licked against the roof of Reese's mouth, reveling in the muffled groan the move drew. Then Bear bumped his head against his thigh and he was suddenly aware that he was kissing Reese in the middle of the park. A hot flush washed over his face as he pulled away. He was breathing harshly, like he'd run a marathon, when he looked up at Reese. The taller man's eyes were hooded, heavy-lidded. His cheek bones were stained a bright red, his lips were almost the same shade and slightly puffy. It took every ounce of Finch's not inconsiderable will power not to drag him down to kiss him again. Instead he looked around. The guy Reese had pointed out to him was staring at them, open-mouthed. Suddenly Finch looked at them through his eyes. Two middle-aged men, dressed in bespoke suits in the late summer, necking like teenagers in the park. He couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. Reese followed his look; it was almost like he could read Finch's mind as he started laughing as well. A small, soft sound that Finch wanted to wrap around himself. Then, surprising Finch, he reached out and took his hand. Finch looked down at their entwined with a slight frown. Reese lifted their hands, kissing Finch's knuckles. The intimate gesture removed the bonds from Finch's tongue.

 

“Do you want this as well?” The surprise was clear in his tone. The amusement was back in Reese's.

 

“I don't make a habit of pouncing men and randomly kissing them if I don't want it, Finch. This isn't really all that complicated. We both seem to want this, we know each other well enough to know what to expect if we do this. Does it have to be more difficult than that?”

 

“Maybe you've over-simplified things, Mr. Reese. _I_ don't know what to expect if we do this.”

 

“What? Are you agonizing over whether to propose to me, woo me? If we're in a committed relationship or not if we do this?” Really, he didn't have to find so much amusement in Finch's awkwardness. But it could work both ways.

 

“I was thinking physically, Mr Reese. I don't know what to expect of having sex with another man.” That was as blunt as he was willing to put it; instead of looking embarrassed Reese looked delighted. Finch shook his head, the smile refusing to leave his face. Reese tugged lightly at his hand.

 

“I can't wait to deflower you, Mr. Finch. What do you say we head back to my place? It's nearby and we can have all the privacy we want.” Finch nodded in acquiescence before Reese's words fully registered in his brain. Then his blush came back with a vengeance.

 

“Wait, deflower me? First of all, I'm not a seventeenth-century virgin, Mr. Reese. Secondly...” His voice trailed off before he regrouped slightly. “I'm still not sure what you'll be getting out of all this. I mean-” He gestured helplessly down at himself and looked at Reese almost beseechingly. The taller man met his eyes, that soft look back in his eyes as he smiled.

 

“This isn't just about sex, Finch. I wouldn't do that to you, or to myself. But we know we're damn good as a team on so many other levels. I do believe this level might be completely fucking spectacular if we do it right.” The profanity startled a laugh from Finch. “And as for deflowering? Trust me, I know what I'm doing and I think that could be fucking spectacular for you as well.” He thought back to all his dreams and he couldn't deny that his subconscious had painted that particular picture for him many times. In vivid, high-definition resolution that had him waking up as he found release. He blushed again; luckily the color hadn't left his cheeks enough for it to be visible. Reese was still holding his hand, but he'd slowed his stride, waiting for Finch to make up his mind. The older man gave a shy nod.

 

“I think I want that very much. It's just, I'm nervous.”

 

“That we're doing this?”

 

Finch shook his head and looked at Reese earnestly. “Strangely enough, no. I didn't think we'd end up here. I'm more than happy that we have, however. I've thought about it, dreamed about it-” Reese flashed him a surprised look “-so taking this step isn't such a stretch. It's the logistics involved that makes me feel a little trepidation.”

 

“Trust me, the logistics are the fun part. But this isn't some spur-of-the-moment thing, is it Finch? If you've dreamed about it?” Finch resisted the urge to scuff his shoe in the ground.

 

“I don't know what changed, but something did in the way I perceived you that night at the club. It dawned on me that not only are you attractive, but _I_ found you attractive. It left me off-kilter. Shortly after that the dreams started.” Reese made an encouraging sound. “And I went into therapy.” Reese's laugh was surprising, deep, rich and completely genuine. It left him doubled over, wheezing slightly for breath. Finch had never heard him laugh like that before; he found he wanted to hear it much more often.

 

“Oh, Harold! That's what it was all about?” He started laughing again. “It's so incredibly _you_. You find you have sexual thoughts about someone of the same gender, so you seek therapy?! And here I was worried something was really wrong!”

 

“Harboring sexual thoughts and fantasies about your co-worker is quite wrong.” He couldn't keep the smile off his face.

 

“Not when said co-worker appreciates the sentiment and fully intend to try and live up to your expectations.” Reese's smile turned devilish as he straightened to kiss Finch again. It was still inappropriate, way too public and just to good to pass up on. Finch was getting addicted to Reese's kisses, and fast. The strangest thing was that it didn't feel awkward at all. Sure, he didn't really know what he was getting into, but he trusted Reese to guide him. He took Reese's hand again. They'd already behaved way too inappropriate; if anyone had opinions about their holding hands he didn't care. He felt remarkably carefree as they headed to Reese's loft. For the first time in ages he actually felt truly happy. This had probably been simmering in his subconscious for a long time, he'd just refused to acknowledge it. He glanced at Reese. The taller man was relaxed, moving easily. If Finch didn't know better he'd say Reese was sauntering. The small smile on his face made him seem younger. He wondered if he should say something, anything, but the silence was easy and companionable. He was aware that some people looked at them twice, but most of the ones doing so was smiling. He was glad the times were changing, that same-sex relationships weren't frowned upon as it was before. He didn't want Reese to be his dirty little secret. Suddenly grinned a little, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He looked at Reese again, the plain happiness on his face. This already was a relationship of sorts.

 

The moment they stepped inside the door, Reese's hands slipped under Finch's coat. “Thank God, I don't think I could have kept my hands to myself a moment longer.” He smiled, broad and open. “I've been wanting to do this for a long, _long_ , time.” His lips traced the shell of Finch's ear, breath hot against the delicate skin. Finch's heart did a weird double beat before it sped up. He put a hand on Reese's chest, feeling his pulse speed up in turn at that simple touch.

 

“Don't you think you're a little overdressed, Mr. Reese?” A soft huff of laughter warmed his ear.

 

“Don't you think this might be an appropriate time to use my first name, Harold? But you do have a point; care to help me out?” His fingers were literally itching to do so, without further invitation he set to unbuttoning Reese's shirt. He mentally shook himself. John's shirt.

 

“Maybe that's the only strange thing about this, that I'll call you John without you being injured.”

 

John's smile held a wicked edge. “I don't like being injured, but if you want to treat me rough I'm good with it.” Finch gave a swallow. He didn't like the idea per se, but he could see that John enjoyed the sentiment. He filed it away for later use. Tonight would probably bring enough new experiences as it was. His fingers shook slightly as he finished unbuttoning the shirt, spreading it wide to lay john's chest bare. He took a step back, allowing himself to stare. John had a broad chest, muscles lightly defined, toned but not overly so. The chest of a man aging but still keeping in shape. He was lightly tanned all over. Finch stared for another second, then he took a step forward and pressed a kiss to the small hollow of John's throat. Experimentally he gave a small lick, and John made a small sound.

 

“I've wanted to do that for a long time, probably longer than I've wanted to admit. Maybe that's why I've been badgering you to wear a tie more often, to keep that spot from distracting me.”

 

“Maybe that's why I've refused to wear ties, to keep you distracted.” John's fingers were removing Finch's waistcoat and shirt while his mouth was blazing a hot trail along Finch's jaw. He felt decidedly weak at the knees as he let his fingers trail over John's chest. He scraped a nail lightly over a dusky nipple and John gave a shuddering sigh. “You're good at this, Harold.” Finch smiled and pushed the shirt off John's chest completely, splaying his hands over bare skin. He bent down slightly, trailing light kisses over all that skin. “I thought I was supposed to seduce you.”

 

“You are,” Finch murmured against his skin, “by letting me do this.” He nipped at a nipple with just a hint of teeth, drawing another sound from John. He was aware of his own heart hammering in his ears. Then John shifted, inserting a thigh between Finch's legs. The shorter man instinctively moved against it and his breath hitched. He'd been so focused on John; now he was suddenly aware of how achingly aroused he was. John gave a breathless laugh as he rubbed his thigh against Finch's groin.

 

“Good to know I'm not the only one affected by this.” He pushed the clothes away from Finch's upper body, mirroring Finch's moves over his skin. They stood there, hands on each others bare chests. Finch licked a trail between nipples, ending with a slight nip at a collar bone. John bent his head to repeat the move on Finch. Feeling that warm tongue on his naked skin tore a small moan from him; his hands slipped down John's stomach, resting lightly at the lining of his pants. Without hesitation John echoed him again and Finch realized John was letting him call the shots, set the tempo. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to know that John was pliant, letting himself be handled however Finch wanted. His hands were shaking slightly as he opened the button and lowered the zipper on John's pants; John's were completely steady as they did the same to him. He swallowed a sudden wave of apprehension as he pushed the pants and underwear down, laying John bare. John smiled as Finch knelt, helping him out of socks and shoes as well as the pants before rising again. A bout of self-consciousness overtook him momentarily when John removed the rest of his clothes. He felt a bit inadequate as he couldn't help comparing himself to the taller man. But as John rose he took a step back, looking Finch over. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable, as was the twitch of his erection. Finch tentatively reached out, stopping just shy of his mark. John's smile was both tender and predatory.

 

“You _are_ allowed to touch me, anyway you want, Harold. In fact I highly encourage it.” His voice was just a tad unsteady; it made Finch feel much better. He swallowed as he reached out, gently cupping John's groin. He was barely touching him, but John's eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back slightly. Finch could see his chest heave as he drew a deep breath, shuddering slightly. It blew him away that his simple touch could affect John so. He shifted his hand, tightening his grip around John's shaft. The hard flesh pulsed in his fingers and John gave a groan. He moved a little, gently pulling on him, getting used to the feel of John so intimately. It wasn't enough; his other hand reached down to cup John's sac, rolling the delicate orbs in the palm of his hand. He looked up to watch the taller man. Sharp slashes of red stained his high cheek bones, the rest of his face was more gently flushed. He was biting his lower lip but small sounds escaped him anyway. Finch's cock twitched and he shifted his hips. He sped up his movements slightly, testing various degrees of firmness of grip and speed. John's hips snapped forward into his touch. He felt powerful, almost drunk from the knowledge he could affect John like this. He wanted more of it. He looked up at John as he lowered himself to his knees again. John's hands reached out to grip Finch's shoulders.

 

“You don't have to do this. We can take it slow, one step at the time.” His voice was breathless, unsteady and it made Finch smile.

 

“I know that. I really want this, John, I want to taste you.”

 

“Oh god, keep talking like that and this will be over _way_ too soon, Harold. I mean it.” Finch grinned slightly as he leaned forward to gently close his lips around the head of John's cock. It was foreign, strange, the feel of that blunt head in his mouth. He experimentally swirled his tongue over the tip, getting used to the texture and flavor. Instinctively he put his hands on John's hips to steady himself. Deciding the slightly bitter taste wasn't too bad he tried to take a little more into his mouth. John gave another moan; Finch could feel his body shake as he fought the need to move. It encouraged him and he took John deeper, trying a bit of suction. John's hips twitched forward and Finch gagged slightly, almost choking. John gave an awkward laugh and pulled back. Finch looked up at him.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” He felt like he was back in school, not sure what the teacher would scold him for.

 

“No, you did it very right. I'm just too tightly wound right now, I don't trust my self-control. I just might use your mouth and come before I get to the deflowering part.” The last was said with a teasing smile. A part of Finch thought that idea might have its merits. He'd love to see John lose control because of his mouth, because of him. But the heat pooling in his gut at the thought of being taken by John easily won out, no matter the slight trepidation he felt. John held a hand out and helped Finch back to his feet. “Now it's my turn.” In a fluid motion he sank to his knees, opened his mouth and engulfed Finch. The older man wasn't a virgin, he'd had oral sex before, but never like this. John took him in fully in one fell swoop; his tight mouth and throat constricted around Finch's flesh. He was unable to stop the cry that ripped from his throat as John sucked him in impossibly deeper, burying his nose in the curly hairs at the base. He set an almost punishing rhythm, drawing him in deep, lips massaging him, tongue twisting over the crown. Finch gulped in huge breaths, clawing helplessly at John's shoulders. His hips stuttered into the movement, in effect fucking John's mouth. The crude thought made him keen low in his throat. John's hand slipped behind him to cup his cheeks, fingers teasingly slipping between them to gently prod at his hole. He didn't push, just gently circled the rim, making the muscle flutter under his touch. At the same time he kept up the sweet torture of his mouth, relentlessly sucking Finch closer to the edge. His gut clenched; he was pretty sure he was leaving shallow nail marks all over John's shoulders. Finally he gasped out:

 

“Wait! Too much, too close... can't take it, don't want to...” Words were beyond him, he was incoherent, unable to form full sentences. But John got him fine enough.

 

“I think it's time we take this to the bed instead.” With a smile he got to his feet, leaning in to kiss Finch deeply. Finch let himself bury his hands in John's hair, playing lightly with the short strands. He'd wanted to do that for a long time. They stayed like that for a few moments, slowing things down a little, calming. Finch desperately needed the respite, he'd been so close to the edge that he was sure the slightest touch would have made him come. He didn't want that yet, not until he'd felt John inside him. The thought was still a little intimidating, but he wanted it. He wanted it badly.

 

Eventually he reached out to take John's hand. “I believe you said something about the bed?” He tugged lightly; John gave a small laugh as he let himself be led. Finch twisted to look over his shoulder, just taking in the sheer beauty of the taller man. “How should we proceed?”

 

“Just lie back on your back. That's the most comfortable position for you, right?” Finch did as bade, sinking down on the comfortable bed. John knelt over him, straddling his thighs. Finch couldn't resist caressing him again, tugging at his erection. John's smile grew a bit strained as his breathing quickened. “If that's how you want to play it.” He pulled away and scooted down on the bed. “Can you pull your legs up?” Finch did so, wondering what John's intentions were. John's hands spread him open, then a hot tongue swiped over his exposed hole. Finch exhaled sharply, not sure if he should be repulsed or mad with lust. The lust easily won out as John continued his onslaught, teasing him with wet licks. He'd never felt anything like it, then his mind grew blank as that agile muscle pressed inside him slightly. Once more that keening tore from him, this time he seemed unable to stop it. His hands twisted in the sheets, fisting them as sweat broke out on his body, covering him in a fine sheen. His heart was beating a fast staccato, a steady beat to signal impending orgasm. It was amazing, he was so close to coming from that single touch. John withdrew; he made a sharp noise of protest. That noise turned into a surprised exclamation as a slick finger entered him. It didn't hurt, but the feeling was alien. The finger reached much deeper inside him than the tongue had, caressing him inside. There was a slight burn, just a hint of discomfort, but that changed quickly as John's nimble finger found a certain spot inside. Finch gave a cry, his back arching slightly. John's laugh was decidedly sultry, seductive.

 

“Feel's good, doesn't it, Finch?” His finger rubbed that spot again and Finch's cock gave a sharp twitch. “Do you think you're ready for another finger?”

 

“If it keeps feeling this good I'm ready for your entire hand,” Finch panted out. John gave a surprised laugh as he slowly began to insert a second finger. Finch eagerly pressed down on him, completely ignoring the burning stretch. The slight pain felt good, kept him from coming too soon.

 

“Kinky. But I think that's a little beyond our first time; let's take things slow.” A third finger joined the other two, gently twisting and pressing into him before stretching him open. He gave a sharp gasp, a mixture of pain and pleasure. John twisted a little deeper, pulling his fingers apart inside him. Finch shifted his hips restlessly, pressing down slightly on those fingers. As he twisted a little he impaled himself on that exact spot and his eyes clenched shut as pleasure shot through him again.

 

“I- I'm ready. I want more, I want it all. Please, John.” He didn't know he'd resort to begging, but he was aching to feel the other man inside him for real.

 

“Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.” John's voice was soft, hoarse. Finch just gave a moan and pulled his legs back a little further. He was no stranger to pain, and he really didn't care. The lust was almost like a white-hot noise, burning his very core. Without being aware of it his hand slipped down to close around his own cock, gently pulling at it. He needed release, craved it. He looked at John pleadingly, mouthing _please._ Actual words were beyond him at the moment. John took a small tube, quickly slicking himself. Finch reached out, letting his hand slide over John's, enjoying the effortless glide. John groaned and pushed up into their joint hands before pulling away. He bent down, once more kissing Finch. They kept their lips locked, deepening the kiss, as John slowly pressed inside. It hurt a little, but not as much as Finch had feared. When the head breached him fully John paused. Finch closed his eyes momentarily before looking up at John. The younger man's face was taut, tense, lips pulled back from teeth in a half-snarl. His arms were trembling as he held himself motionless over Finch. The older man reared up slightly, capturing his lips again.

 

“It's fine, John. More than fine. Please, I want you.” He sounded pleading, but he didn't care. He kept kissing John, feeling that heat in his gut swell and intensify as John slowly pressed inside him fully. It was torture of the most exquisite kind, the slow burn as he was filled. Then John shifted his hips again and Finch gave an animal growl as John once more found that spot. John's laugh was shaky but triumphant as he pulled back only to press back in, careful to rub over that spot again. And again, as he started thrusting, deep and slow, almost lazy. He kept the rhythm irregular, pausing on occasion. Finch was sure he would die from frustration. Or at least start crying. John kissed him, nipping his ear lobe, biting along his jaw line as his hips picked up speed. Finch met him, pressing up into the thrusts, groaning and panting. He was feeling shaky, shivering, pulse roaring in his ears. Pleasure rippled through him, curling his toes and making him dig nails into John's broad back. He could feel it shivering through him, tingling in his temples, drawing pearls of sweat to bead his forehead. John murmured in his ears, voice a soft bass growl, but he couldn't make out the words. A callused hand snaked between them, grabbing his achingly hard cock, jerking him in rhythm to the thrusts inside him. It only took a dozen tugs before Finch fell over the edge, arching into the touch, mouth open in a soundless scream. He couldn't draw breath, couldn't think as the orgasm pulled from his very core, making him pulse in John's hand and clench around his cock. John gave a low keen, hips snapping deep into him before freezing. His entire body was trembling, echoing the shudders gripping Finch, as he spilled hotly inside the older man. His face was feral as he bent down to devour Finch. He twitched inside, and Finch gave a muted cry as aftershocks raced through him.

 

Eventually John pulled out to collapse next to Finch. He was panting hard, an arm draped over his eyes as he lay on his back. “Are you okay, Harold?” Finch made an unintelligible sound, still unable to form words properly. His body was still quaking from the occasional aftershock of pleasure. John gave a sated laugh. “I'm with you on that one.” He twisted to pull Finch close, holding him gently. Finch cuddled into the embrace, already drifting off. Just before he fell asleep he felt soft lips press a kiss to his temple and remove his glasses. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

 


End file.
